Crawley's Diary 1912 to 1920
by JosephineCrawley
Summary: Basically my take on what Matthew's diary may have looked like from 1912 until 1920. Pretty much all canon, except for the bits in Manchester and later on in France and London.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So this is going to be my little project to keep me happy until September! Thought I share it with you guys. Oh, and of course I am always happy to get reactions, criticism etc. Most of all, as this is supposed to be canon, please DO make me aware when I go completely awry. We all got our head canon, but I'm _trying_ to stick with JF's writing as good as it goes..at least this time :)

Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

April, 15th 1912

I'd never really believed in providence. When James Burns came in yesterday to complain how he missed his ship to New York because his wife had gone into labour right before departure, he'd not only been the happiest man I'd ever seen, but turns out he was actually luckiest as well. The ship sank, RMS Titanic, the one everyone had made such a big fuss about. If it had not been for his wife or rather the unborn child deciding to spoil their journey, Burns would surely have drowned along with the rest of those poor wretched people. Over a thousand apparently. What a tragedy! Mother said we didn't know anyone on board, but to think of all those in steerage, women and children even who had no chance of surviving at all. Dobbins suggested someone ought to sue the White Star Line, and he'd take the case on gladly. Bet he would, to make some money out of the misery of others. Burns came by again today, saying he'll christen his daughter 'Titania' in honour of her perfectly timed birth. George and Dobbins were laughing, but I actually think it is an incredible case. To think how a person's entire fate can be altered by one single event, just one occurence to throw over everything and change people's destiny forever. A coincidence of course, but Burns will remember it for the rest of his life, I'm sure.

June, 16th 1912

Heaven, it is still hard to wrap my mind around this whole affair. This morning, over breakfast, we received a letter from Lord Grantham, Father's third cousin. The aristocrat, as Uncle Edgar called him when he came over to calm Mother's nerves. She seems to actually believe that I will become the next Earl of Grantham! Apparently, Grantham's heir has died in the Titanic disaster and I, the next one in line, will have to make do now. I'm so agitated, I can hardly sit still and write this. No one ever told me I was 'in line' to anything. Undoubtedly, this family, with whom we never had any form of contact before, mind you, must be even less thrilled about the prospect of having a middle-class solicitor as an heir-presumptive. But they need not be worried, it's not like I'm going to accept it. Must have a conference with Murphy and Irivine about this matter tomorrow. There has to be a way of getting out of this charade. I won't be removed from my position, my home or my own character for that matter. This doesn't change a thing. And I wish Mother would stop being so openly excited, as there is nothing to be excited about! We are quite well off with or without an inheritance. Better write to Irvine right away, settle the appointment. Never gave much thought to that antiquated part of our family. Entails are hard to break, I undestand, but no one said I could not refuse and let the next one 'in line' go for it. Lord knows who he is.

June, 18th 1912

Bad news. Murphy has confirmed it. He says there is no getting around the matter, I must accept the entail. For now at least. I knew that myself, thank you very much. But it is all so very irksome. Murphy actually congratulated me and asked if he could spend a weekend or two at my new estate with his wife and children, once I was settled. It's difficult not to be rude to people when they approach me thus. George seems to understand my dilemma. He says it's obvious people will treat me different from now on and I should not take on so. Easier said than done. If you ask me, this whole silly business only proves that our entire legal system needs to be revised. In this day and age, it doesn't seem right, nor practical to keep up a system like the entail law. Last night over dinner, George's wife had the nerve to call it 'romantic', blathering some nonsense about Jane Austen novels. She actually suggested that I may be obliged to marry one of the Earl's daughters to make up for the injustice of my claim. What a horrid idea! I have not waited all my life for the right girl to come along, to propose to some nondescript distant cousin just to please her family. No, thank you very much. Hell would freeze over before I'd allow that to happen.

June 25th 1912

London. Was invited by Lord Grantham to meet him in the Savoy for dinner. I must say, he was not at all what Uncle Edgar has led me to believe. Extremely jovial and friendly, but then, he must put up with this troubling situation as much as we do, so I suppose he is trying to make the best of it as well. We talked about the possibility of changing the entail, but he assured me that it was too complex a matter to be resolved so easily. Which was to say, it is nearly impossible. Of course he mentioned those three daughters, which made me suspicious after what was said the other night. I told him it did seem rather unfair on them to have a perfect stranger given the preference over his own children. He did not deny it. I suppose they would hate me on sight, if and when we meet. He suggested that I give up my seat in Manchester and move up to Yorkshire. The place is called Downton, the house Downton Abbey, a large stately home of approx. 400 hectare. I knew it would come to that! Told him I'd consider it. It would have been rude to decline right away. Maybe I should not even tell Mother that he had mentioned us moving. All in all, I do admit that I am pleasantly surprised by the Earl. A lesser man would not have tried to make me feel so welcome in his life. It's sad to think that I will only come to figure in it, when he'll be gone himself. At present, however, there is nothing for me in Yorkshire, and I will most definitely not leave Manchester for it.

July 11th 1912

We're moving to Yorkshire in two months. I am not happy about this, not happy at all. Yet, nobody seems to care what I think. It feels as if Mother and Lord Grantham have secretly plotted it all, to get me out of my comfortable old life and chuck me right into this mess up in the north. The Earl wants me to get involved in the running of his estate. In other words: he wants to teach me how to be like him. Sure it is kindly meant, but I have no need for lessons in aristocracy. Good thing the Brewers' case is keeping me busy here these days, otherwise I'd go mad with Mother and everyone else making such a bleeding fuss about me. However did this happen? And why to me? I wonder what Father would have said, if he were here. Surely, he'd have taken my side, the sensible one, that is. Mother was always a bit more drawn to the upper classes. She keeps reminding me how Grandfather was definitely 'upper middle class', as if that made any difference. Plain fact is, we are not like those people. _I _am not like those people. And frankly, I have absolutely no desire to be!


	2. Chapter 2

August 22nd 1912

Dinner with the colleagues. Murphy Sen. held a toast, said how Murphy, Murphy and Dobbins would not be the same without me. Must say it feels good to be appreciated for what I'm good at. Being a lawyer is what I'm good at, it's what I'm meant to be doing with my life, not idly sitting around a dreary old castle, waiting for some distant relative to snuff it so I can take over and cash in his money. Wish I had not drank quite so much over dinner. Bit queasy now. Nearly lost my temper with Dobbins there, when he got up and started ranting about how I must be careful not to become too much of a snob and an upstart in the future. Called me 'Little Lord Fauntleroy'! If that does not warrant a knock on the nose, I don't know what does. Lord, I'm not feeling well at all. Better go to bed. They're all just bloody jealous. As if I wanted any of this mess...

September 2nd 1912

Arrived this morning. And already I've made an ass of myself. Lady Mary Crawley, Cousin Mary that is, though I believe she addressed Mother when she offered it. Well, she came to our house, as some sort of reception committee, I suppose. How is one to receive such a person all unannounced and haughty with her riding gear and those dark eyes, how should one behave? Mother was the model of social grace and affability, while I stood there, flustered and sweating, looking like the greatest fool that ever crossed her path, I wager. She hates me now. Our arrival got me so riled up, with all that 'Yes, Sir' and 'Let me get that for you, Sir', from our very own butler or valet and double under house maids and whatnot. So I began to quarrel with Mother, nothing new, and told her that I'm not going to let them change me. And I am still adament about that. I mentioned the possibility that they may want me for one of their daughters, when that blasted butler or whatever he is comes back with _her_ in tow! Of course she heard, and the way she glared at me when she left. As if I were a particularly nasty breed of vermin. I went after her to apologize, or rather to make a dumb excuse, I said it was only a joke. Up on her high horse, she looked down on me, literally, and said 'The whole thing is a complete joke.' Exactly what I've been saying this entire time, and yet, the moment she said it, I felt like disagreeing. Before I could say anything, she just took off. By God, this family is already making me lose my head. She is right, of course, it is a joke. Or rather, I'm a joke, the way I'm handling it so far. She told us to come down for dinner at the great house at 8. Better unpack now. Mother says this Molesley had already unpacked my trunks and laid out my suit. Seriously, do I look like a five-year-old?

September, 3rd 1912

Most awkward evening I have ever experienced. Last night, at the great house, I had made up my mind to be, well, open-minded. The house is incredibly grand, even worse than I'd expected. Beautiful obviously, but not really a place to live and get comfortable in. Can't imagine what life in such a palace would be like. No wonder Lady Mary has turned out so. Thought I was being extremely sociable tonight, to try and make up for that blunder in the morning. She, however, was not to be appeased. There was a veritable army of servants, who stood assembled like tin soldiers at our entrance. I'm sure they also think me insufficient to fill Lord Grantham's place one day. Never mind that, I'm not keen on having such an army of subordinates at my back and call. Molesley up here is trouble enough, looking at me as if I'd gone mad when he found me all dressed and my clothes hung up this morning. Then he tried to tie my shoelaces, I was so startled, I nearly kicked him in fright. The man must be five years my senior at least, how utterly ridiculous! I wonder at Mother, she's so enthusiastic about everything and now she wants to get involved at the local hospital, despite some snide comments from the Dowager Countess, who is quite a pistol, if I may say so. I myself lost my temper a little bit when one of the servants tried to lecture me. At the other end of the table, Lady M grinned over it like a Cheshire cat. So superior. They all believe they are. Scandalized faces all around when I told them about my new job. This family never had to work a single day in their lives, the Dowager doesn't even know what a weekend is. Must remember to write that to George, he'll never stop laughing. But if they expect me to become part of this wonderland they live in, I'm afraid they'll be sorely disappointed. Funny, even Harvell & Carter were surprised when I applied for the job, as if everyone expected me to put up my feet now that I'm here. Had not much to do today, basically just inspected my new office. It's a small partnership, no comparison to Murphy's at home, but I shall make the best of it and according to Harvell they never had anyone with such an extensive knowledge of industrial law, so I can surely be of some use here.


End file.
